My mom may have been the best birth control her two daughters and son could have. She succeeded in making pregnancy and labor sound like the most painful and terrible things on the face of the Earth– or at least the worst day ever.
Every year on my birthday, my mom has recounted my birth story to me– play by play throughout the day. When I called to ask her a couple questions, her response was “don’t you have it memorized?”
I seriously should. But these are the facts that have stuck out to me over the years. My dad had to have an emergency appendectomy. I decided I should make my arrival into the world 10 days early (better early than late, right?). My mom stayed with some friends after being sent home from the hospital– where she morphed into the Incredible Hulk and pulled a towel bar off the wall during one contraction. She went back to the hospital (after finally deciding to pack a bag) and had me… my dad was wheeled into the delivery room to be there.
Voila. Me– I came into the world after 36 hours of labor. Apparently I had a really big head. Apparently I cried a lot (sidenote: my sister would make up for this by being the “perfect baby.” #firstkidproblems).
What 15-year-old wants to hear that story on her birthday? What 16 or 18-year-old would ever want to think about having one of her own?
I obviously did make the leap after a couple years of marriage. I will have to say the months carrying the baby were far worse than the seven hours of labor.
I had ankles the size of an elephants. The humidity about killed me every day here on the east coast. I was so tired, but could never make it through a whole night without waking up once or twice to use the bathroom. All of a sudden I couldn’t figure out what to do with that second arm when sleeping on my side. Foods that I loved became horrendous, while others became an obsession. And to top it off, I was diagnosed with HELLP Syndrome at about 8 months.
My delivery went so smoothly. I was induced at about 7:30 a.m., and had my baby at 2:30 p.m. My epidural worked wonderfully. My doc barely made it back to the delivery table to catch my babe who just couldn’t wait any longer. The magnesium sulfate after delivery was perhaps the worst thing about that day.
I love my daughter. I will probably go through it all again, just as my mom took the leap of faith. Two more times.
If she can do it, so can I.